Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Briar
The Fall Festival at Devil’s Peak Elementary is supposed to be charming. Wholesome. A night of caramel apples, raffles, and children bouncing off hay bales like over-caffeinated bunnies.
Instead, it feels like the entire town is slowly closing in on me—like a pastel-colored, pumpkin-spice-scented trap.
I adjust the strap on my tote bag, inhale the sugary air, and try to convince myself I am not drowning.
“Briar,” my fellow kindergarten teacher, Melissa, says as she swoops in, cheeks flushed from chasing her class, “I swear next year I’m volunteering for coat check. Why do we do this to ourselves?”
“Character building?” I offer.
She snorts. “I don’t need more character. I need a margarita.”
I exhale a laugh. “God, same.”
Melissa links her arm with mine and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “So. How’s it going? You look…” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Frazzled. Adorably frazzled.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
I groan. “Junie’s with her class, hopped up on sugar, and I can’t convince my students that the hay bales are not an obstacle course. And the PTA keeps circling me like I’m the fresh meat.”
“You are the fresh meat.”
Before I can respond, she nudges me. “Speaking of circling… I heard something.”
I raise a brow. “From who?”
“My husband. He talked to Captain Cole earlier.”
My stomach flips. “Saxon was here?”
“Oh yeah,” Melissa says casually. “Handing out these ridiculous firefighter hats to the kids. They loved him, of course. He could’ve run for mayor tonight.”
Of course they loved him.
Everyone loves him.
Except me.
I do not love him.
I just… notice him.
Constantly.
“What did he say?” I ask, too quickly.
Melissa grins knowingly. “He told my husband that you need someone… what were his words? Someone dependable.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“That’s what he said.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He did.”
I shake my head, heat crawling up my neck. “He must’ve meant something else. Or maybe your husband misheard.”
She gives me a look that says I know exactly what I heard, sweetheart.
“He said it like he meant it,” she continues. “And trust me, the Captain isn’t exactly a chatterbox. The man does not waste words.”
No.
He definitely doesn’t.
“Dependable,” she repeats, savoring the word. “Sounds like he’s offering.”
My pulse skitters. “He was probably joking.”
“Did he sound like he was joking?”
I picture Saxon’s face—carved, stern, smoldering. The man doesn’t even know what a joke is.
“No,” I admit.
Melissa squeezes my arm. “Well. Maybe he’s thinking about you.”
“He is not thinking about me.”
Melissa opens her mouth—but before she can respond, a PTA mom rushes by, overhearing exactly the wrong part of the conversation.
“Thinking about Briar? Who’s thinking about Briar?”
My blood chills. “No, no, no—”
But it’s too late.
Three more PTA moms swarm like glitter-covered bees.
“Who’s thinking about Briar?”
“Did you say someone dependable?”
“Who—”
Melissa mutters, “Oh no,” under her breath.
The question ricochets from one mom to another, each adding details that never existed.
“Briar needs someone dependable.”
“Captain Cole said that!”
“He said she needs a man like him.”
“A man like him for what?”
“For her! Obviously!”
My heart careens into my ribs. “No, no—this is a complete misunderstanding—”
But the gossip spreads faster than wildfire.
I see the PTA president, a woman named Eleanor with a megaphone in hand, glance our way.
And the moment she sees me, she brightens.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Melissa. What did we do?”
“Run,” Melissa suggests unhelpfully.
Before we can, Eleanor steps onstage, raises the mic, and beams out at the crowd of families.
And then she says it.
Loud.
Clear.
Crushing my soul in real time.
“Congratulations to our newest couple—Briar Tate and Captain Saxon Cole!”
The world stops.
The crowd erupts.
Kids cheer.
Parents clap.
Someone whistles.
Someone else yells, “About time!”
I stand frozen like an idiot, barely breathing.
And then I hear his voice behind me.
“Briar.”
My stomach plummets.
I turn.
Saxon stands a few feet away, holding a hot cocoa cup he probably regrets touching, jaw tight, eyes burning with something between confusion and dangerous patience.
He looks huge.
And pissed.
And unfairly gorgeous under the festival lights.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, voice low enough only I can hear.
“I didn’t—I wasn’t—this wasn’t my—”
He steps closer. “Breathe.”
I try.
And fail.
Because at that exact moment, my ex shows up.
“Bri,” he says, smirking like he owns the ground I stand on. “We need to talk.”
My throat closes. “Not now, Matt.”
He steps in, blocking my path. “You can’t keep putting this off.”
“I can and I will,” I snap.
He sneers. “You moved Junie two hours away without even asking me.”
“You were gone for three months,” I say. “You didn’t call once.”
“I was busy—”
“With what?” I shoot back. “Your job? Or the other family you probably secretly have?”
He stiffens. “I don’t have another family.”
“I said might.”
He glares at me like my existence inconveniences him.
“We need to figure out the holidays,” he insists. “You can’t just make decisions without me—”
“Oh, but I can,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “And I will. Because you haven’t been involved. At all.”
He steps closer.
And I step back instinctively—right into something solid.
Someone solid.
Saxon.
He moves behind me like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.
Like he saw Matt coming and decided this is where he stands.
His hand doesn’t touch me.
But it might as well, because heat radiates around me like a shield.
He steps forward, crowding Matt with pure, controlled power.
“She said not now,” Saxon says, voice deadly calm.
Matt scoffs. “Who the hell are you?”
Saxon’s eyes darken. “I’m with her.”
My breath catches so sharply it hurts.
Matt blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Saxon says, tone like steel wrapped in flame. “She’s with me.”
Silence. Then murmurs ripple through the nearby crowd.
Matt’s face contorts. “Since when?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Saxon says. “Back off.”
Matt looks between us—my wide eyes, Saxon’s squared shoulders—and curses under his breath before storming off into the crowd.
The second he’s out of sight, my knees nearly buckle.
Saxon catches my elbow before I slide to the ground.
“You good?” he asks, voice low.
“I—” Words evaporate. “Thank you.”
He studies me long enough my lungs forget how to work. “Who was that?”
“Junie’s dad,” I whisper.
His jaw ticks. “He bother you often?”
“No,” I say. “He doesn’t… he’s barely been around. He works out of town. Weeks at a time. Honestly…” I huff a humorless laugh. “I’ve always wondered if he has another family somewhere else.”
Saxon doesn’t smile. He just watches me. Too carefully.
“I’ve basically been a single mom since Junie was born,” I add quietly. “He checks in when he feels like it. If he feels like it.”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then his eyes lower to my mouth. He’s not subtle about it. Not even pretending. Heat rushes through me like a furnace igniting.
“Saxon…” I whisper.
“You don’t owe that guy anything,” he says, voice gravelly. “Not your time. Not your space. Not your fear.”
“I know,” I say softly.
He steps closer. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You shaken?”
“A little.”
His gaze flicks to my lips again. Then back to my eyes.
“I’m happy to help you anytime,” he says, voice so low it vibrates through my bones.
My breath shudders. “You… helped a lot tonight.”
He leans in. Not touching. Just close enough my whole body feels pulled toward him.
“That wasn’t help,” he murmurs. “That was instinct.”
I freeze. My pulse stumbles. The air thickens.
“Saxon…”
His eyes hold mine like he’s holding something back. Something sharp. Something forbidden. Something that tastes like yes. But then someone calls his name from across the lawn and the spell breaks.
He steps back slowly, jaw tight, like it physically costs him to pull away. I exhale shakily as he turns to leave. But before he does, he glances at me again—one last look that drags across my skin and leaves everything smoldering.
“See you around, sunshine,” he murmurs.
And then he disappears into the festival lights leaving me standing there with my heart racing and the spark between us blazing hotter than anything I’m ready for.